Post Traumatic Chair Syndrome
by pkdainichi
Summary: John Crichton’s daughter must wake him after another nightmare. Short interlude.


TITLE: Post Traumatic Chair Syndrome

AUTHOR: Dainichi  
EMAIL: sailor_sun13@hotmail.com

SPOILERS: Uh…I'd say maybe "Nerve", but other then that none.

RATING: PG-13  
SUMMARY: John Crichton's daughter must wake him after another nightmare.  Short interlude. 

DISCLAIMER: If Farscape was mine, I wouldn't be writing fanfiction, I'd be buying a yacht.  Farscape belongs to Henson, Scifi, and Halmark.

***

It hurt it hurt oh god it hurt so bad…the chair the chair ripping burning pulling at his neural pathways, destroying then rebuilding rearranging tearing burning ripping…felt like fire…like he was on fire, his back arched involuntarily and his mouth opened wide and he screamed and screamed and screamed, not human anymore, something else, something scared something that wanted to run...burning ripping tearing pulling it hurt it hurt god please make it stop wormholes, I don't know what your talking about burning ripping screaming tearing pain…

***

  John was having a nightmare about the chair again.  Remembering how much it hurt, remembering his innocence finally snapping in two, screaming like an animal… he writhed and spasmed, convulsed and screamed, feeling the pain all over again.  Part of him, a very small part, knew this was a dream and wanted to wake up, but he couldn't.  Only felt the pain, the burning…he screamed and began kicking and punching at air, and succeeded only in tangling himself up in the sheets and falling on the floor.  He screamed again, louder and more animal like, no not animal like, just inhuman….

***

  Sirra Crichton was startled awake by her father's screams again.  She lied there for a long time, wondering if this was a good night or a bad night.  Sometimes, there were nights when he would wake up at the slightest touch, other times there were nights when he would punch at anyone who touched him…  Sirra wondered what had happened to her father that had scarred him so deeply that he wouldn't talk about it.  When she was a child, she had asked her mother once, and her mother had said,

  "It is nothing small children should ever hear about."  Her mother never saw Sirra grow up to be a young woman, though, and so Sirra never knew.  But there were nights that names were screamed.  Scorpius.  Gillina.  Crais.  The first name, Scorpius, sent a chill down her spine every time she heard it, although she did not know why.  Sirra heard the thump as her father fell out of bed.  She sighed and grabbed the nightpants that she kept at her bedside, pulled them on quickly, then ran across the hall to wake her father.

***

  As she walked into the room, she grabbed a small cloth out of a bowl of water that sat on a table near the door.  She hurried to her father's side a pressed the cloth against his forehead.

  "Father, wake up father, you're having a nightmare again, it's alright, father…you're safe, you're home…"  John's eyes flew open.  He looked at Sirra with the animal look, one that was always caused by the dreams.  Sirra knew that whatever had happened to her father had caused something inside him to wither and die, and a monster to form as a shield to protect what had been left of him.

  She had never been scared of her father when he yelled at her for stealing.

  She had never been scared of her father when he stood in command, making a deadly decision, pulse pistols at his sides and a grim look on his face.

  She had never been scared of her father when he was drunk.  Or angry.  Or almost ever.

  But when her father opened his eyes after the dreams and a monster stared out from his steel blue eyes, she had always been terrified.

  She wanted to bolt and run for the door, run away and never come back.  But she couldn't.  Because somewhere in there, below the monster, was her father.  Staying here was the only way to get him back.

  It took a few microts, but finally he gasped and took long, deep, shuddering breaths, like a man drowned.  He virtually pounced Sirra, quickly encompassing her in his arms and burying his face against her chest.

  They sat like on the floor for a long time, John crying and Sirra shushing, like they had many nights before.

  And more then likely, like they would many nights after.


End file.
